Shrinking the Gap
by Alone Dreaming
Summary: Spock attempts to reconcile himself with his human side while dealing with a most unusual physical malady. Kirk comes along for the ride. Non-slash.
1. Physical Matters

**_Shrinking the Gap_**

**By Alone Dreaming**

**Rating:** PG-13 for injuries, language, adventure, emotions.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own _Star Trek_. If I did, this would not be posted under fan fiction.

**Warnings:** Emotions, injuries, foul language, surrealist influences

**Dedication:** Again, to my roommate, and her obsession with Zachary Quinto and Leonard Nimoy

**Author's Note:_ PLEASE READ._** I find that capital letters often attract attention better than just "author's note." Of course, if you do not read this, it's your decision but I refuse to be held responsible for any disagreements you have with my portrayal of characters then.

I have difficulty believing that Spock and Kirk simply became friends and from my 1.2 percent knowledge of The Original Series, I can see that their relationship is particularly unique. This story, written from Spock's point of view, directly involves the development of said relationship and Spock's emotional issues just after the movie. I would consider this their second or third mission afterwards, set early in Spock and Kirk learning to work with each other. What I feel necessary to say here and now is that this story deals in Spock and emotions, and some people will not agree with how I portray him. I would ask you to take it as a grain of salt and understand this is merely my interpretation. Thank you.

And after that bit of explanation, which I feel silly for having to say at all, I say, as always, that this is self beta'd so all Star Trek Knowledge/Grammar/Spelling issues are of my own making. Overall, please just enjoy this for what it is and feel free to comment as you see fit.

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Chapter One: Physical Matters

* * *

Spock checked his communicator again but found that it was still emitting spurts of static instead of connecting him to the _Enterprise_. He felt a speck of irritation but suppressed it, carefully compartmentalizing it away until it faded from existence. Emotions, at this point, would only make the situation he was in more difficult and prevent him from handling it in a reasonable and efficient manner. Kirk, who was jogging a short distance in front of him, would find annoyance in his cool exterior and Doctor McCoy would undoubtedly would call him emotionless but he was merely being logical. Unlike the humans he worked so closely with, he knew the importance of staying rational, especially when dealing with difficult problems. He respected feeling, enjoyed feeling and knew that it had a time and place. Sometimes he wondered how humans managed to acheive so much without understanding this.

"Anyone picking up?" Kirk panted, dropping back to stride next to his friend.

"I am still only receiving static," Spock told him.

Kirk stopped and stretched, forcing Spock to stop as well. Sweat dotted the Captain's forehead and wet his hair and shirt. His cheeks had a red hue and he had rolled up his sleeves. "Christ, it's hot out here."

Spock agreed silently. While his eyes did not suffer from the brightness of the sun, and Kirk's squinting belayed it was bothering him, he could feel the creeping heat weakening him. He was not sweating as badly as Kirk was, but his hair prickled with warmth and his limbs fought against it. The heat made the ground around them shimmer, creating visual illusions in the distance. It would be easier if they still had shade to retreat to, Spock decided, but foliage had retreated the further they'd traveled. Now, all they had around them was dry, dead plants and cracked dusty ground.

"I feel this is not the worst of our issues, Captain," Spock said, and it was true. While the heat was another difficulty, it was minimal compared to the major problem they were in the midst of.

Kirk licked his dry lips. "I don't know. Seems pretty bad to me. Your Vulcan brain figured out some sort of solution or something?"

"No, I merely feel that our lack of communication with the _Enterprise_ and the fact that we are currently less than three centimeters tall to be more pressing matters," Spock answered.

Kirk squinted at the sky. He put a hand up to shield his eyes, his breath still coming out in uneven gasps. "Eh-- I dunno. I'd say if we don't solve the whole boiling blood issue, you're gonna be dragging my carcass the rest of the way."

"I was unaware we were going to any specific place and I can assure you if you were to die, I'd leave your body behind. There would be no purpose in wasting energy by taking it with me," Spock said, trying the communicator again. Clearly, the shrinking process had done something to the electronics and the broadcasting abilities of the item had been changed. Kirk thought, and Spock felt inclined to agree, that if they ended up closer to the _Enterprise_, directly under it, they might be able to contact them. The distance, Kirk had reasoned when they'd first found themselves like this, had been multiplied nearly by sixty. Their communicators were not meant to broadcast so far. And so now, they were playing a mad sort of guessing game. Luckily, the _Enterprise_ was a large target but their chances of finding it at their size were infinitely tiny.

Of course, Kirk thought the plan would work. Spock still did not comprehend the human's ability to come with and then enact farfetched plans. What baffled him further was how they somehow worked every time-- not perfectly but the end result was almost always positive. What was more difficult to understand was Kirk's utter faith that everything would be fine. Spock could not remember a time where he'd seen Kirk view any situation pessimistically. Irrational, Spock knew, but he admired the quality even if it was foolish.

"Spock, you wound me," Kirk whined, and he sat down. "If you got killed, I'd totally bring your body back. You know-- lay you to rest properly and let Uhura grieve. Give her some comfort if she felt the need. But that's because I'm a good person." The cheeky smile on his face reminded Spock that he was merely teasing him. He opened his mouth to ask Kirk to give Nyota more respect but then stopped. Kirk did respect Nyota; Spock had seen it. He was just trying to, what had been the expression he'd used, 'talk guy talk.' Though Spock could not muster a response to this 'guy talk,' or any sort of expression, he decided that not giving a negative retaliation was enough.

"So, do you think this is that big highway we crossed earlier?" Kirk asked a few minutes later. His exposed arms had reddened in the sun to match the color of his cheeks and nose. Spock knew his own exposed skin was similarly burning and carefully slipped his hands into his sleeves. It felt awkward but it would save him some of the pain in the long run.

"I think that is a good assumption," he agreed. "We should keep moving, Captain. The more we move, the more likely it will become that we will pick up a signal. I also suggest you roll your sleeves down. You are burning."

Kirk muttered under his breath but did exactly that as he got to his feet. He staggered and Spock grasped his shoulder to keep him on his feet. For a moment, Kirk seemed completely disoriented. His eyes had a glassy look and he had a hand at his temple. Then he shook his head and shrugged off Spock's hand. With great intensity, Spock looked him over, making certain that nothing beyond the obvious was wrong with him. When he saw nothing, he asked as well, though he doubted he would get an honest answer.

"Just a head rush," Kirk said, brushing it off as though it was nothing. "It's the heat and sitting down. Come on-- like you said, better chance of getting rescued if we keep moving."

He was off at a steady pace and Spock followed a few paces behind, touching his communicator every twenty steps or so in hopes that someone would answer. If he'd been human, he was certain he would feel disheartened but being only half-human, he felt a twinge of displeasure instead. He channeled this into focus and soon was unaware of the blazing heat and the tiredness taxing his frame. The most important task at the moment was getting in contact with the ship. Other things could wait.

Time passed and he found his mind wavering. He had started sweating heavily and it was difficult to keep himself from thinking of other things. Now and again, he glanced up to look at Kirk. The back of the Captain's shirt had a stain on it from old sweat that had already dried. Kirk was not moving very quickly and he seemed to be stumbling with a fair amount of frequency. His head hung a bit lower, as though he could not hold it upright. This all made Spock wonder if they should have stayed where the accident had happened and searched for water instead of running off. They had no supplies to care for themselves with and the lab where the explosion had occurred had been full of useful items. But, in their haste to avoid being caught for experimentation, they'd fled without grabbing anything. All that they'd had left were their phasers and communicators, and only because those had been on their persons.

He noted, as he considered this, that there was something on the horizon. It looked like the ground foliage that grew on this planet, a coarse grass like substance, and he felt relief for the anxiety he did not realize he had felt. He sped up his pace, soon overtaking Kirk.

"Captain, I think we should take another break once we reach the other edge of the road," Spock said.

Kirk paused and clumsily rubbed at his eyes. "That sounds beautiful."

It took them much longer than Spock predicted to reach the first crispy pieces of grass. Most of it is Kirk's fault as he slowed down at a steady pace and by the time they were under the minimal shade, Kirk had been reduced to shuffling. Spock had similarly lost stamina though not to the same extent. Sweat dotted places on his shirt and he could feel it stinging the skin on his cheeks. His legs did not want to move but he could still lift them if he chose to and unlike Kirk, he did not collapse when they reached the haven. He leaned against the huge brown-grey roots, enjoying the shade. It was still too warm but the lack of direct sun relieved him.

"…S..ck….C…tn… here me?" crackled his communicator.

"I hear Uhura," Kirk muttered. He had his head in his hands. "Am I delirious?"

Spock didn't answer him. He focused on the communicator instead. "Lieutenant Uhura, this is Commander Spock. Can you hear me?"

"H… where… you?" Uhura's voice demanded through the static. Spock felt the corners of his mouth twitch and felt a sudden longing to see her. Frowning at this reaction, he tried to compartmentalize only to find that he couldn't. He had not seen her outside the bridge for weeks. The most he had touched her was a passing hand squeeze. The urge to kiss her which he had pushed away for days suddenly seemed overwhelming; had she been there, he would've done it. Instead, he wrestled the urge into the back of his mind.

"We are on the main highway of the planet," he told her, trying to keep his voice under control. He felt he did not do it very well.

"Can…hear…speak…again…" came the broken response.

"We are on the main highway of the planet," he repeated.

"Broken…where?"

Kirk grabbed his leg, startling him. He glanced down and Kirk motioned for him to hand over the communicator. Spock hesitated, wondering where Kirk's had gone to, but slowly handed it over. Kirk was the Captain, after all, and while Spock did not always agree with him, it was his duty to obey. Kirk fumbled with the communicator for a moment as though he could not quite remember how to use it. Spock watched his uncoordinated efforts and wondered how much longer they would last out here. The sun appeared to be no closer to setting than when they arrived. It had not gotten much hotter but even so, the current temperature could easily kill them both.

"Planet side, Uhura," Kirk said shortly. "Beam us up?"

"Spock?" came her reply.

"Fine, fine, fine," he answered. "Short sentences. I'm better."

"…see."

"Beam us up?" he repeated and said to Spock, "She loves me."

This time, Scotty spoke. "Cannae… signal… fix."

"Well, that sucks," Kirk mumbled to no one. And then to Spock, "You think it's our size?"

Spock nodded. "That seems like a logical conclusion, Captain."

"I love how you can praise me and yet be condescending all at the same time," Kirk grunted. "Scotty?"

"C…?"

"Send someone down here. I repeat, send someone down here."

"..s…C..n"

Kirk put the communicator down with a sigh and rubbed his eyes. A second or so later, he said, "What? Not in the mood to translate your different eyebrow twitches."

Spock continued to pin him with his eyes, trying to see if he was ill enough to be considered unfit to give orders. Asking for assistance was necessary but they both knew that the inhabitants of this planet had proved themselves to be both untrustworthy and dangerous. Merely meeting their scientists had resulted in this disaster and the following reactions to their condition-- not an offer to reverse it but instead, the interest in using them as test subjects-- showed that these people were sadistic and cruel. They had little regard for those around them; Spock first decided this when he saw how they still used slavery. With their technology so prone to failure-- they had an infinitely cleaner way of producing energy but had suffered seven different blackouts in the few hours he and the Captain had been there-- and their general lack of moral compass, Spock surmised they would be poor allies. He almost managed to tell the Captain that right when the lab had combusted.

It could not be clearer that no one else should come to the planet and yet, Kirk had just asked for assistance. What good would it do them to have other crew members wandering blindly? Even those used to world travel and up to date on protocol-- such as Sulu-- would be going into an unknown situation. And they would never find the two of them; with their signatures muddled and the fact that they were so tiny, they could easily be considered invisible.

"Captain," he began, his tone even. "I fail to see how they can help us if they are here."

Kirk had removed his shirt and was swinging it in circles in front of him. "Spock, we need a faster form of transportation if we even hope to sort out this situation. They can't beam us up and the communicators are near useless. Our best course of action is getting them down here so they can find us."

"How do you expect them to do that?" Spock querried, frustrated and having a hard time stopping the frustration.

"With a fuckin' magnify glass and a pair of tweezers if they have to," Kirk snapped in reply. "Or maybe they'll be able to talk to us better once they are down here with separate communicators."

They fell into silence, Kirk fanning himself while Spock stared out towards the road. The air around them was oppressive and equally quiet. There was no wind, no sound; Spock found this to be strange and unusual. He concluded it had to do with the lack of life on this world. The inhabitants had destroyed nearly everything this planet had to give. The sparse grass and a few stubby trees appeared to be the only surviving foliage and animal life had been reduced to stock animals for food. Children of this race were few and far between and natural resources such as water had all but vanished. This was a failing society and he would be glad to be rid of it.

"Guess we should be glad they don't have ants," Kirk said, pausing in the movement with his shirt.

"That would be most unfortunate," Spock agreed, accepting the unspoken truce. Their relationship, if it was that, had been built upon unspoken words. They had nothing to say to each other, Spock reasoned. Neither apologized often and rarely did either admit they were wrong about anything. The most they had in common was the ship. He admitted that, since Kirk had appointed him First Mate, the human had attempted to form some sort of connection. He'd mitigated the worst of his comments and been patient with Spock's lack of emotions. What had driven this behavior, Spock was uncertain, but when he met the Captain's eyes, he found a fondness he had not seen before. Something had changed for Kirk but had not changed for Spock. The side of him that begged for knowledge often pondered what this could possibly be but drew up blank. Someday, when he was more comfortable, he convinced himself he would ask.

"Captain?" the communicator crackled.

Kirk grinned broadly. "Speaking, Sulu. Who alls with you?"

"It's Doctor McCoy and me, sir," Sulu replied. "Where are you?"

Kirk glanced at Spock and then down at the communicator. "On their main highway that goes towards the town. Just… uh… walk towards the town but don't-- whatever you do-- step on the grass, okay?"

"Okay," Sulu sounded confused. "Are you and Commander Spock okay?"

"Relatively-- we'll talk more when--"

The ground suddenly shook violently, tossing Kirk forward and Spock to the ground. The communicator flew from Kirk's hand and rolled towards the road. The dirt around them twisted and shook in a repetitive steady manner, keeping them both lying flat and skirting across it. Spock attempted to get to his feet but found it impossible. Every time he got his hands under him the world tossed to the side again and he lost his balance. He did not recall there being quakes here when they had originally come but it was possible they merely came in infrequent intervals. A particularly violent tremor had him lying flat on his back, staring up at the shady covering of the grass and a sickening realization hit him.

These were not earthquakes; this was someone or something moving. He needed to warn Kirk and, with renewed vigor, flipped himself over. Orienting himself, he started to crawl, hoping to find the Captain amongst the rising dust but coming up short. Kirk was not lying near where he'd been before the rumbling had started. He'd moved towards the road again, belly crawling towards the lost communicator. Spock raised his voice and called to him, trying to give warning but knowing he was not heard over the ruckus. Redoubling his efforts, he tried to reach Kirk, who's hands had just clasped over the communicator, and was further thwarted.

Then the movement stopped. Whoever or whatever was moving had paused in it's motion and given them a second of peace. Spock swept to his feet and jogged over to where Kirk was curled on the ground. He grasped the Captain's shoulder and looked him over, seeing the red-grey cuts on his chest and back and wondering where his shirt had gone to. Undoubtedly it had been dropped with the fiasco had started but he could no longer see the yellow material. The dust had covered it, just like it had covered Kirk and Spock himself. All that was really visible on Kirk beyond the thin lines of blood were his blue eyes which were squinting at Spock.

"What the hell?" he coughed and then spat some mud.

Spock replied quietly, though he was certain whatever it was would not hear him. "Something approaches."

Kirk lowered his voice. "You mean all of that was just someone walking. Shit." He looked down at the communicator. "Double shit."

"What tr--" Spock began but was interrupted when Kirk shoved the communicator into his hands. The wires hung out of it and the speaker appeared to be beyond repair. Spock pressed his lips together, looked at Kirk, looked at the communicator and then at the open road.

"How do we get into these situations, Spock? I mean, before I met you, I had a few laughs but my life was disgustingly normal," Kirk muttered. He was inching towards the edge of the grass, peering upwards. "The worst thing that ever happened to me--"

The world suddenly turned itself on its side. Spock could not comprehend how it happened. One minute, he was standing, listening to Kirk grumble and the next, he was sliding down a bottomless chasm. Dirt and rocks and alien grass fell around him, buffeting him and knocking the little bit of air he had out of him. He closed his eyes against the worst of it, trying to focus and orient himself only to hit the ground hard and feel a sharp pain in his side. Everything faded then came back and he found that he was partially buried under a conglomeration of things. He started to sit up, feeling gravel and dirt roll off of him. The pain in his side floored him seconds later and he noticed copious amounts of green flooding out onto the sand.

"Spock?" he heard Kirk call. "Are you hurt?"

Spock swallowed and deftly pushed some of his shirt away from the injury, wincing as it flared. From what he could tell, he had a serious gash at the bottom of his ribs which, according to Doctor McCoy and his own medical knowledge, would definitely fall under the category of hurt.

"I'm afraid so, Captain," he murmured faintly.

And, quite against his will, he fell unconscious.

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I will have the next chapter up by Saturday.


	2. Emotional Matters

For ratings, disclaimers, warnings, explanations, dedications and rants please see the first chapter.

Author's Note: I would like to thank everyone for their enthusiasm. I did not expect it and it has been very uplifting. Moving along, this chapter delves more into surrealism and questionable character actions and behaviors. Bear with me through the conclusion, which has been edited and rewritten and re-edited and rerewritten and so on, that will be posted by Monday evening before passing judgment. Again, this chapter has suffered through my own corrections but not those of any other eyes, so any issues are my own.

Most of all, please enjoy.

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Chapter Two: Emotional Matters

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He dreamed of his mother holding him when he was young, petting his head and running her fingers along his features. He felt her kisses on his cheeks and the warmth of her skin as she coddled him. She seemed so big, and he so small, perched on her leg as she laughed and smiled and felt in a way that he could not. He could sense that this saddened her-- his cold detachment-- but she never let it show when he was around. "I love you for who you are," she said to him, kissing his cheeks and then the tips of his ears. "You are perfect just as you are. Emotions, none, human, Vulcan, I would have you no different. You are my special boy."

He wanted to tell her that he felt the same about her, that he loved her just as much as she loved him and that he was proud to have a mother who could feel so openly. But she started to melt away from him, falling into the distance and his childish hands could not catch her. He did not call out to her, only grasped at the empty air and felt the disaster of her complete disappearance. His heart thudded in his chest, his throat swelled closed and the emotion he felt was not to be shoved away.

"I'm sorry," he said, leaning against her shoulder when she reappeared. "I'm sorry."

"For what, my darling?" she asked.

Tears dripped down his face. "For everything."

"Oh, my dear one," she whispered in his ear. "You have nothing to be sorry for. I love you just the way you are." Hearing it again hurt just as much as all the times before.

"But I rejected that part of me that was you," he cried. "Instead of learning about both sides of myself, I pushed it-- you-- away. I--I lost my chance to learn how to be like you."

She smiled and held him close, kissing away the tears. "My baby, my dear Spock, just because I am gone does not mean you've lost your chance. From what I can see, your chance is still before you."

In his mind's eye, he saw Nyota's warm brown eyes and felt her lips upon his own. Then Kirk was there instead, grinning that cocky grin. He winked at Spock and gave a patent half-assed salute. After him there was Scotty cuddling his tribble and McCoy muttering something about hobgoblins under his breath and Sulu and Chekov and so many others that he had interacted with on the _Enterprise._

"You still have many, many years to learn." Somehow, he was an adult again, standing. She had to go on her tiptoes to plant the kiss on his cheek. "I love you, my son."

Then his eyes opened to the real world and he stared up into a pair of blue eyes, quite unlike his mother's but similar in their care. They held an array of emotions that he knew but only ever experienced in pieces: concern, fear, and anger. As soon as they comprehended his awareness, they brightened considerably, comforting him. Of course, he reasoned as he became more aware, he would never let the owner of those eyes know that. The teasing that resulted would be unbearable.

"Don't move," Kirk warned him. There was red blood dripping from his left eyebrow and pooling about his eye. "Just managed to get us wedged in a corner so we won't get tossed. Not to mention, my bandaging job isn't too good. How you feeling?"

He blinked, orienting himself to their new surroundings. They were sitting at the bottom of a clear, circular object, dusty and filled with rocks. The landscape outside swung back and forth and he knew they were moving but how, he was uncertain. The rocking motion was strangely reminiscent of being on a boat but there was no water in sight. The thought of water caused his mouth to dry out and his voice ended up raspy. "What has happened?"

Kirk sat back on his heels, chewing his lip. "Got scooped up in a jar like a couple of bugs. I'm pretty sure the guy who's got us is one of the monkeys from the lab." Spock noticed the phaser he held in a green covered hand. "Luckily, I've taught him to keep his hands to himself. Don't worry. Got a plan." He tapped the phaser against his head which did not reassure Spock at all.

Spock closed his eyes, steadying himself against the pain and the rocking before struggling upwards. Ignoring Kirk's protests but accepting his steadying hand, he leaned against the clear wall of the prison. He had no interest in being an invalid, forced to watch as his Captain inevitably did something stupid and dangerous. His hand instinctually braced his side which burned and throbbed all at once. He could feel broken bones rubbing inside the cut and wondered what exactly had hit him to cause so much damage.

Kirk tugged his hand away, scowling at him. "Don't touch it. You'll screw up my work."

The bandage had been wrapped clumsily, sagging already but seemed to be working. Spock did not see any fresh blood. "My apologies, Captain, I would not intentionally do so."

"It has to last until Bones and Sulu get here. I mean, not too long. They're on their way," Kirk told him. "It'll all work out."

"Your optimism in the direst of times always strikes me as foolish," Spock whispered. Upon seeing Kirk's expression, he added, "I find it to be an… endearing quality."

"Endearing?" Kirk repeated. "That's all I get? Endearing? How about heroic? Or Captainly? Or Manly? Endearing is for puppies and chubby, little brothers and old ladies."

And Spock started to chuckle. It hurt, in more ways than one, but it felt good at the same time. Here he was, on an unsympathetic planet with a human he both loathed and loved cut off from his people, without his mother forever, separated from the woman he adored and desperately injured; it only made sense to laugh, the human side of him decided. The Vulcan side of him was worn thin by everything, unable to stop the laughter escaping him. It sounded, the logical side of him noted, near hysterical and quite unlike him. It was probably brought on by blood loss and the heat, this side of him reasoned. It ought to be controlled. But one look at Kirk, who seemed frightened, confused and completely stunned all at once, set him off again.

"This isn't some part of the Vulcan death ritual right?" Kirk asked, eyes wide. "You guys don't suddenly loosen up and become normal on your death beds ? Oh shit, you're delirious aren't you? Shit, shit, shit…"

Spock placed a hand over his eyes and kept laughing. Between gasps for air, he managed, "Captain, I have come to realize that if I must die like this, there is no one I'd rather do it with than you."

Jim simply stared.

He laughed until he passed out, drifting in a half-conscious state filled with pleasant dreams and terrible nightmares. Sometimes, he was safe onboard the _Enterprise,_ watching space trickle by on the bridge. Other times, he was in the days of his youth and the school boys goaded him until he attacked. Every now and again, he lay in bed with Nyota curled up against him, her dark hair splayed over her curves and his neck. In between, he stood trial befofre his father's race who demanded explanations for his betrayal, his sudden loyalty to humanity and his inability to save them. During those dark moments, he often had Kirk standing next to him, energized and defensive and Nyota holding his hand; but, sometimes, he was alone.

He reached consciousness sometime later, his one side stiff and sore and his other too warm to be pleasant. Kirk had settled next to him, his body radiating unnatural heat, and at first, Spock thought him asleep, until he raised a finger to his lips and pointed to his ears. He was fully alert despite his closed eyes and listening to the murmuring voices from a nearby room. The light above them was unnatural and low, the light common to this planet's indoor areas. The swaying momentum had stopped and their jar had been placed on one of the tables left standing in the room. The rest of the area was devastated, decorated with wires and chunks of metal. They were back where they started.

"…Kirk and Commander Spock," a familiar voice rumbled in the distance. "We were told that they came here. I am concerned because Captain Kirk is a diabetic and needs his insulin."

"Heh," Kirk chuckled.

"I'm afraid that Captain Kirk and Commander Spock departed some time ago. They claimed to be returning to your ship in order to begin treaty negotiations." This voice belonged to the Scientist, Karling, who had gotten them into this situation. He'd started off as friendly enough but when the machine backfired and put Kirk and Spock in their current state, he'd shown a dark, experimental tendency that did not coincide with his previous attitudes.

Sulu spoke next. "But they didn't come back. Do you mind if we look around? To see if there are any clues as to where they've gone?"

"I can assure you, they did not leave anything for you," Karling hedged, sounding uneasy.

"Too obvious," Kirk muttered.

"What may seem like nothing to you, may mean something to us," Sulu recovered swiftly. "There are certain objects we are trained to look for and that lead us to immediate decisions about how we will interact with a planet. I assure you we don't think you are involved with their disappearance-- we merely want to double check that the Captain and Commander didn't find something that would lead to further, unplanned travels. As Doctor McCoy said, Captain Kirk is long overdue for his insulin and diabetes is not something to be taken lightly."

There was an unsettled pause. "Of course, I apologize for sounding unconcerned. We had an accident here earlier today and I have a great deal on my mind. Allow me to show you around the lab-- we are currently repairing and I would not want you to come to harm."

"C'mon, guys, be sharp," Kirk muttered again. His face had a hollowed out look to it. "C'mon."

The room suddenly became brighter and the voices became much louder. Kirk visibly winced at the change in lighting and the increase in sound but it did not deter him from getting to his feet. The warmth left Spock and a chill ran down his spine. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted gigantic versions of McCoy and Sulu stepping through the doorway after Karling. Karling's flat face was pale and sweaty, and he pulled at the collar of his tight jacket frequently. He shuffled in front of the table where Kirk and Spock resided, attempting to block the jar from sight as inconspicuously as possible.

Kirk, meanwhile, had pressed himself against one side of the jar and was crouching down slightly. He took in a deep breath and flung a rock as hard as he could against the opposite wall, causing the jar to shudder and ping. Kirk stood, swayed, found a new rock and repeated the action. This time, he lost his balance and fell, adding another ping just after the rock struck. Spock opened his mouth to protest, until Sulu spoke.

"What's that sound?"

Karling, unaware of Kirk's actions, seemed similarly confused. "Most likely a failing piece of equipment. As I said before, we had an accident today which led to the destabilization of this area. I suggest we depart soon."

McCoy inched towards Karling. "It seems to be coming from where you are, Mr. Karling. Best be careful." He was looking just over Karling's shoulder and Kirk waved clumsily. He grabbed the largest rock he could and tossed it.

"It's getting louder," Sulu commented, edging towards Karling from the opposite direction.

Karling's fingers were groping towards their prison. "Yes, well, we'd best be going then, yes?" His hand brushed the cup which began to tilt over.

Sulu pulled his phaser before Karling could move another inch and leveled it at the scientist. "Sir, I advise you don't touch that glass."

"Those are my boys!" Kirk crowed.

Karling's hands flew into the air and the cup fell onto its side, flipping both Kirk and Spock. Kirk landed awkwardly while Spock, who'd still been seated, merely slid and tumbled. The jostle still sent his body cringing but he did not want to consider how much worse it would have been if he'd landed on his injury.

"Please back away from the glass," McCoy requested. Karling obeyed and soon McCoy's huge face leveled with them. "Damnit, Jim, how do you get into these situations?"

Kirk shouted in return, wincing and holding his middle. "You said it yourself-- danger magnet, Bones. But, everyone's lives would be boring if I wasn't."

Sulu still had his weapon trained on Karling. "Doing all right, Captain? Commander?"

"Been better, Sulu," Kirk replied, crawling back towards Spock. "Love to be normal size if that's possible."

"Are you injured?" Bones asked as Sulu said, "Best to fulfill the Captain's request. He gets cranky when he doesn't get his way."

Karling appeared terrified. "I-- the machine-- it's broken. I--I can't reverse this."

"Well, best to get to work on fixing it," Sulu said pleasantly. He motioned with his gun. "But we aren't terribly patient, so hurry."

"Jim, are you hurt?" Bones repeated when neither of them answered.

"Spock's busted up, Bones, and we'd both kill for some water," Kirk shouted. "You got any?"

:"I'll see what I can do."

Spock drifted through the confusion, noting everyone's actions and processing them as unimportant. The warmth settled down next to him again, his shoulder pressed against another's. Kirk yawned and tilted his head towards Spock.

"Told ya it would work."

Spock managed a slight curl of his lips. "Yes, yes, you did."

Two hours later, they were in the sick bay, clean with access to food and water, but still tiny. McCoy, frustrated by circumstances and by Karling's inability to fix the machine, had taken the glass and been beamed up with them tucked safely in his hands. Scotty and Chekov had been sent down to see if they could help figure things out while Kirk and Spock had been whisked away with the promise they would be returned as soon as the machine was fixed. Issues began when McCoy insisted they bathe and that Spock's bandages be replaced. He could not help-- they were too tiny and everyone knew that even the gentlest touch could do further harm-- and Spock did not have the strength to do it himself. The duty fell on Kirk, who had wilted between their rescue and the travel. McCoy led him through the process but his hands shook violently and he had to keep stopping. Spock did his best not to say or do anything, only to help where he could and not to show the amount of pain he was suffering. By the time they were finished, however, curled up in torn up pieces of blankets, he was border lining on unconsciousness. McCoy had been encouraging them to eat and drink plenty and he had managed a sip or two of water but could not muster any food. It was slightly better than Kirk who had sipped the water and then vomited it in the corner of the box.

He felt disgustingly weak, both physically and emotionally, and it embarrassed him which only spoke further to his state. More than anything, he had the urge to shut down completely, despite his recent dreams and decisions to try harder with his human side. Accepting Kirk's help, though he had no choice, had been disturbingly difficult and now he had no interest in even looking at him. Even Kirk's presence nearby, close enough to feel his warmth, hurt, almost as severe as the physical pain. He swallowed hard against rising nausea. At least, Doctor McCoy had placed them in his office, away from prying eyes and overly loud sounds. The lights were dimmed here and the door shut. The only person allowed in was McCoy himself and he was very careful about how he spoke and how swift his movements were.

"How you doing, Spock?" Kirk mumbled next to him.

"No different than the last time you asked, Captain," Spock answered.

"Figured as much."

"Then why did you inquire?"

"Cuz Bones told me to," Kirk slurred, "and he knows when I lie so I gotta do what he says." Spock cracked an eye and watched Kirk slump down. "He's a fuckin' sadist."

They fell into an uncomfortable silence, punctuated only by the distant sounds of the sick bay and the occasional sighs from Kirk. Spock tried to use the nothingness to find some sort of control but realized that it had fallen beyond his grasp. His only option now to escape it all was unconsciousness and he knew that neither Kirk nor McCoy would allow for that until they'd been resized. Dealing, however, was not an option either. His mother's voice echoed in his mind, and the images of his friends paraded across his eyes. The guilt he'd been feeling redoubled; here he was, finally able to have feelings, and he was shoving them away again. Kirk had dragged him around, saved his life and cared for him and all he could do in was be embarrassed.

"You should call me Jim," Kirk said suddenly.

He turned his head towards Kirk. "Why do you say that, Captain?"

Kirk seemed to struggle. "Someone told me that you would."

They had not discussed Spock Prime and Kirk still appeared to think that world altering consequences would occur if he even mentioned the older version to the younger. Spock had not initially seen a problem with this but now, he felt bad about it. He did not know the extent of Kirk's meeting with his elder self but Kirk had respected and trusted Spock Prime to the point of hanging a whole planet's existence on his opinion. Kirk, in turn, deserved the same respect.

"Do you mean my elder self?" Spock asked.

Kirk gaped at him. "How--"

"He and I have met and spoken," Spock informed him. Then he paused for a bit, trying to control the pain. "He said that the two of you met and discussed his past, my alternate future."

Kirk looked confused. "He told me-"

"He informed me that he implied our meeting or knowledge of each other would result in time-space issues. It was not true."

"Oh."

Spock's mouth had dried out and he wished the water was closer. "He called you Jim?"

Kirk was silent.

"Captain?"

"Yes, he said that was what he called me in his time," Kirk mumbled. "Said we were friends."

"I see."

"You should call me Jim."

Spock did not answer this and Kirk spoke again, "It was the truth-- the friend thing. I saw it when he did that mind-melding thingy."

This grabbed Spock's attention, charging him full of energy he did not think he still had. He sat up a little, ignoring the pain and tried to discover if Kirk was lying. The Captain's face appeared entirely serious, however. He was not looking at Spock but staring ahead, out at the room. His eyes were half-mast and had a glassy, distant look.

"Why did he do this?" Spock demanded.

"Too tell me about why things happened," Kirk mumbled. "Said it was easier to show me than to tell me. Showed me more than he meant to, I think."

Anger which he neither understood nor expected filled him. He had great respect for his older self, not due to egotism but because he viewed him as a completely different person and a person worth the respect. Now, he thought his elder self very foolish. Every Vulcan knew that to perform a mind-meld with any other being could potentially mean death for that being. It was far more logical to simply tell a story; using a mind-meld to save words or because one did not have the right words seemed completely ludicrous and unnecessarily dangerous. But why did it make him so angry? Was it because it was an older version of himself who had done it and he did not wish to think of himself making such a foolish choice? Or was it because it had happened to Kirk? The image of Kirk lying lifeless or brain dead entered his mind and he found his answer.

"It hurt," Kirk continued. "Sometimes I dream about it. About things he saw. About things that happened to him and the other Kirk."

"It can kill," Spock interrupted. "He should not have done that to you."

"He'd done it with the Kirk in his timeline. That's how he knew it would be okay with me," Kirk kept speaking as though he hadn't heard him. "Whenever I dream about it, I see things like I am that Kirk. He's not like me, really. I mean, he's sorta me, but not me. We don't think the same, really. He's… he's a different me; a me who had a real family growing up. He had a brother and a dad and a mom. 'S weird when I'm him because I sometimes would do things another way but I have no control over it. 'S weird…"

"Do you ever have these moments while awake, Captain?"

"And the other Spock, he calls the other me Jim. He's not you though; you guys are similar but really different, too. I think you'll get more different-- differenter? No, more different-- now because… his mom never… died. He called me Jim." Kirk paused and shook his head roughly. "Sorry, don't know why I'm saying this. Brain's gone all… fucked up."

His skin glowed in the pale light, ashen, his eyes sunken. "But-- I dunno. Just thought you should know."

"You should not still be having flashbacks," Spock informed him, not sure if Kirk could hear him. "Something must have gone wrong. If it goes right, it should go away."

Kirk's head lolled to the side. "Sorry 'bout your planet, by the way. Felt what he felt. Really, really sucked."

Why he did what he did next, he did not know. He lifted a heavy hand and let it drop on the side of Kirk's face, feeling overwhelming dry heat there. And then, he initiated a meld of his own, meant to heal whatever had gone wrong, meant to make things right.

"I will fix it, Captain," he murmured. "I promise."

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I have an epilogue of sorts which will be posted by Monday. Thank you for reading!


	3. Epilogue: Years or Minutes

**Author's Note:** Thank you again for all the affirmation. It is very much appreciated. I hope this chapter pleases you though it may not contain what many of you were looking for. It is an epilogue which, hopefully, wraps up some of the loose ends of the Kirk/Spock friendship. Again, this is unbetad. Be lenient if possible. Most of all, enjoy.

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Epilogue: Years or Minutes

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He hovered by the Captain's door, debating his options and trying to choose the most sensible course of action. It shouldn't have been a complicated decision. All he wished to do was knock and when the Captain answered, inquire into the Captain's health. Considering his last memories of Kirk involved the two of them tiny, half-delusional and using rags for clothing, it seemed logical to make certain he was well on the road to recovery. Doctor McCoy had reassured him when he'd awoken that this was the case, and he did trust the doctor's word, but a deeper part of him had urged him to check up on the situation himself and he'd followed that urge to his current situation.

Part of it, he reasoned, was the gap in his memories. He knew that he'd lost time between the box and coming to, normally-sized and feeling considerably better. Something had happened; he had the vague notion that it involved Kirk revealing something to him. That something, whatever it had been, had led to something else which in turn had led to something else. And yet, he could not recall what any of it was, leaving him confused and faintly annoyed. He had never had an issue with his memory before and now to have one without any explanation (admittedly, Doctor McCoy blamed it on a variety of physical maladies but Spock felt inclined to disagree with this) made him seriously uncomfortable. He wanted answers and he thought, perhaps, Kirk could provide them.

But Kirk had not been present upon his awakening, nor had he shown up during the time Spock dwelled in the sick bay. The only person there with any regularity had been Nyota who'd visited every spare moment she could; this excluded McCoy who irritably told him that he'd sent the Captain to his quarters for the rest of his leave to rest and relax. Everyday when Spock asked about the wayward Captain his answer had been the same, "He's fine, Spock, just in his room. Asleep. Hopefully."

He'd expected Kirk to drop by and see him, he could not pinpoint why, and he wondered if this had to do with his missing event. Part of him actually felt offended by the lack of the Captain though he'd dismissed that as an irrational reaction to whatever Doctor McCoy had him on in combination with trauma. But it had bothered him all the same, even as pleased as he was with Nyota's company, and it had driven him here as soon as McCoy had dismissed him from the sick bay to, "rest in your room until I say you are fit for duty."

The door slid open before him and a ruffled looking Kirk blinked at him in the owlish manner of someone who'd just woken from a heavy sleep. He'd never actually knocked but the Captain's sudden appearance forced him into action. His hand dropped to his side and he took in Kirk's mostly healed cuts and bruises. The sunburn he'd acquired had started peeling, tanning in some places and leaving pink, new skin in others.

"Hello, Captain," he greeted as Kirk continued to stare at him in confusion. "You look… well."

Kirk yawned and leaned against the door. "Look friggin' disgusting. Peeling like a snake." He didn't seem surprised to see Spock there but that could be explained away by his half-awake status. "You look pretty good though. Bones finally release you?"

"Doctor McCoy said I was fit to complete my recovery in my quarters," Spock informed him. His side barely bothered him at all now, and he'd argued against having to rest for another day. It was inefficient, a waste of his time, but McCoy had been insistent and he'd acquiesced merely because there was no winning when Doctor McCoy said no.

"Great," Kirk said. There was an awkward moment of silence. "Um, anything I can do for you?"

He suddenly had no interest in asking the questions that plagued him. Images of various women coming to a similar door and asking this same man the same question-- What did we do last night? I can't remember…-- struck him with vigor almost as though he'd personally experienced them. The idea that he would have to be like one of Kirk's conquests, or even similar, was unacceptable. He could not do it.

"As your second, it is my duty to make certain you are well on your way to recovery," he lied.

Kirk's face immediately went blank. "Well, as I'm sure Bones told you, I'm doing great, Commander. In fact, I'm even up to getting some food. So, if you'll excuse me." He shoved away from the doorframe, pushing by Spock to get to the hallway.

"So, it seems," Spock agreed. He knew he'd said something wrong here but did not know what it was or how to correct it. A sudden urge to tell Kirk that he, Spock, a person, wanted to know how his _friend_, Kirk, was doing consumed him but his lips said something completely different. "I am… glad to see it, Jim."

Kirk paused in his departure and turned, his expression both surprised and confused. "Huh?"

"I am glad to see you are well, Captain," he repeated, seeing that this response had wiped away the disappointment.

"No, no," Jim said, his eyebrows pressed together. "You called me Jim."

Looking back on it, he had. "Captain, I-"

But Kirk was grinning. "You called me Jim."

"We have confirmed this and I assure you-"

"I like it," Kirk assured him. "You should call me Jim."

He felt like he'd heard this before and wondered if it related to his memory gap. The shining smile on his companion's face laid these thoughts to rest, though, for the moment. Shoving his hands in his pockets, Kirk beamed at him and said, "How about you come get some food with me?"

He had many years to learn, his mother had told him in his dream. But he knew that lives could be ended in an instant, without warning, and possible years would mean nothing. It would be most logical to implement his learning now and leave uncertainties and memory quests until later.

"I would be honored."

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Thanks for reading.


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